


Artistic

by tastewithouttalent



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Dom/sub Undertones, Established Relationship, F/F, Insecurity, Living Together, No Plot/Plotless, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rope Bondage, Shibari, Vibrators
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-21
Updated: 2016-12-21
Packaged: 2018-09-09 02:38:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,187
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8872489
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tastewithouttalent/pseuds/tastewithouttalent
Summary: "'I don’t want you to bruise at all,' Hitoka says finally, her voice high and breathless as she draws the rope in closer against Kiyoko’s wrists, trying to settle it against the softer curve of the other girl’s arms instead of the sharp angle of bone pressed close under delicate skin." Hitoka puts her artistic skills to use on her girlfriend.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [bluenarcbird](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=bluenarcbird).



“Are you sure this isn’t too tight?” Hitoka asks, not for the first time. “I’m not hurting you?”

“No.” Kiyoko sounds as composed as ever, as perfectly certain of herself as Hitoka has ever known her to be. She shifts her wrists, her fingers curling against each other as she tugs at the bindings around her skin. “You can make them tighter.”

“You say that every time,” Hitoka doesn’t-quite-protest. She frowns at the smooth length of the rope under her fingers and takes a breath to steady herself before she cinches it tighter against Kiyoko’s skin.

“It’s true every time.” Kiyoko tips her head, glancing back over her shoulder at Hitoka kneeling behind her. In profile her lashes look even darker and longer than they usually do. “It’s okay if they leave bruises.”

“I don’t _want_ to bruise you,” Hitoka protests, even as she draws the rope tighter to pull Kiyoko’s arms tight against each other at the small of the other girl’s back. “That’s why it’s so hard to make them tight enough.”

“It won’t bruise if I’m not struggling,” Kiyoko tells her. “You’re not pulling them too tight, it’s when I’m pushing against them that it leaves marks.” Hitoka’s movement stalls, her hands going still for a breathless moment as heat rushes through her at the memory of the last time they did this, at the vivid image of Kiyoko arching off the sheets underneath her, her spine curving into a graceful arch and the plait of the rope strained across her skin to hold her in place against the force of heat in her veins as Hitoka worked into her with both fingers together. It was a good night, Hitoka thinks, even if Kiyoko had had to wear long sleeves for days afterwards to cover the ropemarks printed in against the delicate lines of her wrists. Hitoka had flinched every time she caught a glimpse of the bruising; but Kiyoko had smiled, had all but glowed from the inside out every time she smoothed the fabric down over her skin, and by the time the bruises had faded out of sight they had taken Hitoka’s stress with them too.

“I don’t want you to bruise at all,” Hitoka says finally, her voice high and breathless as she draws the rope in closer against Kiyoko’s wrists, trying to settle it against the softer curve of the other girl’s arms instead of the sharp angle of bone pressed close under delicate skin.

“I know,” Kiyoko says, still steady and as composed as if they’re talking about something completely different. “I remember.” Her head tips, the dark of her gaze cuts over her shoulder; Hitoka can feel it like a touch against her body, like fingertips sliding against the open edge of her blouse to ghost over sensitive skin even though Kiyoko’s hands are slack and unresisting underneath the weight of Hitoka’s touch binding them to her wrists. “I’ll be good today, I’ll do just exactly what you tell me.”

Hitoka loses her grip on the rope entirely. “That’s not what I mean!” she wails, grabbing at the end so she can pull it taut again as her face burns to scarlet she can feel like the kiss of too-much sunshine against the whole of her skin. Kiyoko’s laugh says she knows, even if the sound is soft enough that Hitoka can barely hear it, and Hitoka has to duck her head and let her hair fall forward over her face while she closes her mouth on the embarrassing catch in her voice and tries to work herself back into calm around the movement of the rope in her hands.

It’s a more effective technique than it should be. She can remember the first time they did this, with a printed-out reference picture crinkling on the sheets next to them and Hitoka’s hands shaking so badly all her knots came out sloppy and so loose Kiyoko could have easily slipped free of them. It had been overwhelming, then, almost more than Hitoka could bear just to have so much of Kiyoko’s skin laid bare in front of her, much less while she wound the pale pattern of rope across the give of the other’s curves to make art out of the natural beauty of Kiyoko’s body. But she’s had practice, now, has experience in fitting the lines of white against the other girl’s skin and in laying the pattern of the rope into lines and angles to stretch smooth over the curves of hip and breast and thigh, and even the awareness of the curve of the other girl’s bare hips as she kneels over her heels isn’t more than a distant appreciation in Hitoka’s mind. Her whole focus is pulled in around the weight of the rope winding around Kiyoko’s wrists, focused on the lines of white binding the other girl’s arms flush to each other, and by the time she’s cinching the knot tight and drawing the ends of the rope up and over Kiyoko’s shoulders her momentary flush of embarrassment is as forgotten as the subject of their conversation.

“Deep breath,” she says as she slides around the edge of the bed, coming around to face Kiyoko instead of kneeling behind her. Kiyoko does so immediately, without hesitation or protest, filling the whole of her chest with a long draw of air. The motion arches her back slightly forward and lifts her breasts higher on her chest, but even that fact isn’t more than a distant heat in Hitoka’s mind; she’s reaching for the rope instead, sliding it down and over Kiyoko’s shoulders to make a support for the angle of the other girl’s arms at her back. The rope comes down, between the dip of Kiyoko’s breasts and to the rope already bound just below them, and Hitoka slides the loose ends under the support of it, drawing it taut and holding it still against the press of the other girl’s held breath.

“Breathe out,” she says, and Kiyoko does, her chest shifting slightly underneath the weight of Hitoka’s touch. “Comfortable?” Kiyoko nods rather than speaking, ducking her head in silent acknowledgment of Hitoka’s question, and Hitoka draws the rope in on itself to loop into a knot that settles just between the weight of Kiyoko’s breasts. The lines of the bindings are starting to come together, she can see the outline of what she wants beginning to take shape like a sketch forming itself to clarity under her fingers; but she’s not done, and she doesn’t look up yet to take stock of her work. She’s moving instead, pulling the rope down to Kiyoko’s navel, setting another knot into it there before running it around the curve of the other girl’s waist, just over the flare of her hips and back to rejoin the binding looping cleanly around her arms. Another knot, there, to hold the lines steady, and then she comes back up, crisscrossing the rope to make an X across Kiyoko’s back and coming back down at the outside of the other girl’s breasts, this time. Kiyoko is breathing harder, Hitoka can hear it as clearly as she can feel the rush of heat flutter at the collar of her shirt, and her breasts are drawing tighter, her nipples hardening with the flush of arousal that is turning her skin a pale pink to contrast the more clearly with the white of the rope against her body. Hitoka’s warm too, she can feel the weight of her clothes like a burden against the heat rising under her skin; but she doesn’t pull away, doesn’t pause to strip herself down to bare skin. She’s still busy with the rope, winding it in and through itself to make a diamond pattern over Kiyoko’s navel, to make a tracery of white against the other’s girl’s skin; and finally she comes back with the last few feet left of the rope, sliding back around to the arch of Kiyoko’s back and the tremor of her bound hands as she winds the length into a binding to hold the other girl’s feet in close under her. It’s a secure knot, Hitoka checks to be sure of it; there’s an inch or two of leeway, depending on how Kiyoko shifts her shoulders, but it’s nothing like enough for her to work herself free until Hitoka sees fit to loosen the knots.

“There,” Hitoka says finally, sliding back off the edge of the bed and stepping around to stand in front of the art she’s made of Kiyoko. Kiyoko tips her head up to look at Hitoka, the dark of her hair falling back from her face; a long strand is tangled in her lashes and clinging to the damp of her lips, but she doesn’t make any move to try to shake it free. Her eyes are dark, her lips are parted on the heat of her breathing, or maybe on some words left unvoiced against the tension in her throat; her lashes look darker than they have any right to, without the usual weight of her glasses in front of them. With her arms drawn back her collarbones lie smooth under her skin, the line of her throat trails cleanly down to the shadow of her cleavage; the rope winding around her body is urging her breasts slightly apart, is bracing them a little higher than they would normally sit, as if the line of white is a delicate touch pressing gently in against soft-sensitive skin. The tension across her stomach is straining against the rope marking out that diamond just above her hips, the strain of the knots against her skin are pressing the pattern in close; Hitoka can see Kiyoko shift against the tension at her skin, can watch the pull of the other girl’s body made clear by the weight of the rope pressing so close against her.

“Okay,” she says, finally bringing her gaze back up to meet Kiyoko’s. Kiyoko is still watching her, her eyes wide and blown dark on the same heat warm at her mouth and flushing through her skin; she looks ready, expectant, thrumming with adrenaline that’s just waiting for Hitoka’s touch to be set free. Hitoka can feel the power of that run down the whole length of her spine, can feel it tighten across the press of her nipples against the inside of her shirt and pool low and taut in her stomach; it flushes her cheeks, it hurries her breath, and when she speaks her voice is dropping lower in acknowledgment of it, hitting shadowy depths that she knows she would never be able to hit deliberately. Like this it’s easy, there’s no effort at all; the words fall smoothly, as certain on her lips as her movement is as she steps forward to reach out for Kiyoko. Her fingers touch the other girl’s shoulder, trail down against the taut stretch of the rope; Kiyoko sucks in a breath of air, her chest shifting like she’s trying to press up to Hitoka’s touch, but she doesn’t move, even when Hitoka’s fingertips brush her skin to slide underneath the knot of rope just between the other girl’s breasts. Kiyoko’s skin is flushed warm to the touch, almost hot against Hitoka’s fingers; the line of her cleavage is impossibly soft, smooth and giving immediately to the pressure of the other girl’s touch. Hitoka winds her fingers under the rope, pulls gently to be sure of her grip; and then “Lean back,” she says, keeping her gaze on the rope instead of on Kiyoko’s face.

Kiyoko does, at once, without any hesitation. Hitoka hadn’t been sure about this the first time she tried it -- Kiyoko has a few inches of advantage in height, and Hitoka knows she’d never be able to hold the other girl off the ground by her own strength. But she doesn’t need to take Kiyoko’s full weight, just to steady her backwards motion, and that she does, pulling against the angle of the rope under her hand to catch Kiyoko’s fall into a graceful descent rather than something more jarring. Kiyoko’s head tips back, her throat turns up to the illumination of the light overhead, and for a moment Hitoka watches that curve, all her attention clinging to the shift of Kiyoko’s breathing against the column of her throat. Kiyoko’s hair falls back from the delicate lines of her features, the dark of it sliding off her shoulders to pool on the sheets under her; and then Hitoka eases her down the last few inches to the bed, and Kiyoko is tipping her head to look back at her, and Hitoka can feel all her body going so radiant with heat she feels she ought to be glowing.

“Just a minute,” she says, unwinding her fingers from the rope pressing to Kiyoko’s skin as she steps back from the edge of the bed to reach for the top button of her blouse. “I’m going to--”

“Get more comfortable?” Kiyoko suggests.

Hitoka’s cheeks flush dark with self-consciousness. “Yeah,” she says, and has to duck her head instead of continuing to watch Kiyoko watching her. “It’ll only take a second.”

Hitoka can feel the weight of Kiyoko’s eyes fixed to her. It’s like a touch, like Kiyoko is standing close enough to her that the heat of her breath is ghosting over Hitoka’s skin as she undoes the buttons down the front of her blouse, as she shrugs the soft of the fabric off her shoulders and turns away to drape it over the back of a chair. Self-consciousness is hot as an open flame in her, burning across her cheeks and catching at her breath until it’s hard to keep herself moving and impossible to steady her hands. It would be easy to move away, Hitoka thinks, simple to step sideways into the bathroom or even just around the end of the bed, easy to move to some point where Kiyoko can’t watch her push her skirt off her hips and reach around for the clasp at the back of her bra. Hitoka could undress in calm, or at least relative calm, and then emerge after she’s had time to brace herself to be seen, after she’s completely sure she’s ready for an audience.

She doesn’t. Part of it is that it seems unfair; Kiyoko’s been naked for almost a half hour, she stripped herself out of her clothes without any hesitation in offering her bare skin for the drag and press of Hitoka’s ropes and Hitoka’s touch both. The least Hitoka can do is return the favor, now that it’s her turn to slide her bra off and slip her fingers under the elastic of her panties. But another part, a larger part, she thinks, is that for all that her face is burning and her skin is flushed with awareness of Kiyoko’s gaze on her, it _is_ Kiyoko looking, and that heat unfolding through her isn’t wholly unpleasant. It makes her feel hyper-sensitive, like all the fine hairs across her skin are lifting in anticipation of ticklish contact, and by the time she’s shifting her bare feet against the bedroom floor the heat in her stomach has compressed and pooled into something more of an ache than anxiety.

“Okay,” Hitoka says, her eyes still cast to the floor, and it’s only through supreme force of will that she manages to lift her gaze up over the edge of the bed to Kiyoko. “Are you ready?”

Kiyoko is staring at her. There’s no judgment behind the soft color of her eyes, none of the rejection that Hitoka is still braced for even now, that some illogical part of her half-expects every time she steps out of her clothes and bares herself for Kiyoko’s consideration; there’s just attention, focus so fixed and absolute Hitoka isn’t sure Kiyoko heard the question at all. But her lashes are heavy, her lips are parted, and there’s no need for an active reply, not when Hitoka can see the answer written so clearly in the rapidfire pace of Kiyoko’s pulse at her throat and the taut dark of her nipples flushed tight with arousal. Hitoka’s stomach drops, gravity sweeping out from under her for a moment of disbelief, a breathless heartbeat of _this can’t be real_ ; but if it’s not real then it’s a dream, and Hitoka can do whatever she wants in a dream.

“Kiyoko,” Hitoka says, her voice dropping into heat she didn’t mean for it to, purring over on itself into something heavy, seductive, almost sultry in a way she never feels alone, never feels anytime except when she’s like this, with Kiyoko, like the weight of the other girl’s gaze is enough to bring out all Hitoka’s beauty too. Kiyoko’s lashes flutter, dipping over her eyes like she can’t manage to keep them open for the heat parting her lips, and Hitoka is leaning in while Kiyoko is still gasping through a breath, sliding in to fit her knees around Kiyoko’s and bracing a hand over the other girl’s shoulder to support herself while she tips in closer to the damp part of Kiyoko’s mouth. Kiyoko opens her eyes for a moment, her gaze sliding to focus on Hitoka leaning over her, and then her lashes are dipping closed again, lying dark against her cheeks as she turns her chin up in an unmistakeable offering of her mouth for Hitoka’s touch. Hitoka fits her hand to Kiyoko’s cheek, spreading her fingers to rest gentle against pale-soft skin, and then she’s shutting her eyes too, closing away any distraction vision might offer so she can focus herself on pressing the weight of her lips to Kiyoko’s. Kiyoko whimpers against her mouth, a faint sound more of heat than of anything like protest, and she’s parting her lips, making an offering of her mouth for Hitoka to take if she chooses. Hitoka touches her tongue to Kiyoko’s lips, tasting against the damp of them for a moment, feeling like she’s sipping sugar off the soft give of the other girl’s mouth; and then she licks in farther, against Kiyoko’s tongue and along the roof of her mouth, losing herself in the heat of the other’s lips while her fingers wind farther into the dark soft of Kiyoko’s hair against her palm. Kiyoko whimpers again, that breathless sound of something like surrender, and Hitoka shifts her weight to let her body tip in closer to press against Kiyoko’s under her. She can feel the texture of the rope catching between them, can feel the hard points of the knots digging in against her hip and the edge of her shoulder; but Kiyoko is soft, her skin and her body and all of her, from the tangle of her hair at Hitoka’s fingertips to the give of her breasts crushing against the other girl’s. Hitoka can feel Kiyoko’s thigh flex underneath her, can feel the involuntary attempt Kiyoko makes to rock up against the resistance of her body; the thought flushes her skin to heat, steals her breathing into a gasp, and she has to pull away from Kiyoko’s mouth to pant for air so she can blink herself into focus on the other girl’s face. Kiyoko’s cheeks are flushed, her lips damp and warm from the press of Hitoka’s mouth; as Hitoka looks at her the dark of her lashes come open, lifting over her heat-hazed gaze to drift into focus on Hitoka leaning over her.

“Oh god, Kiyoko,” Hitoka blurts, her chest too tight with appreciation to let her do anything other than spill the words uncaught from her lips. “You’re so _beautiful_.”

Kiyoko huffs a laugh, the sound startled out of her as her lashes dip through a fluttering moment of amusement. Even that is breathtaking, like all the glow that she usually carries with her is just nearer to the surface like this, like the shell of composure around her is nothing more than a protection to let those around her occasionally stand to look away. “So are you,” she says, and Hitoka doesn’t believe that but Kiyoko’s voice makes it true, makes the statement so stunningly obvious Hitoka can’t find resistance to it even from amidst her own insecurities. “Hitoka-chan.”

“ _God_ ,” Hitoka manages, because she doesn’t know what else to say, because it’s impossible to find words to fit around the way her heart is racing and the way heat is rising so bright under her skin she feels it must break free somehow. She braces her hand against the bed, steadies her knee against the outside of Kiyoko’s hip; Kiyoko’s legs are warm against her own, she can feel the soft of the other girl’s thighs pressing trembling friction against her skin. Hitoka catches a breath, feels the weight of it straining against her chest; and then she moves, sliding her knee up higher to press her thigh close between the give of Kiyoko’s. Kiyoko’s head tips back, her legs angle open wider, and when she groans satisfaction Hitoka can feel the sound run all down her spine and draw tight in the heat between her legs.

“Kiyoko,” Hitoka says, the name half a prayer and half appreciation, and she’s moving closer, rocking her knee in higher and pushing up to gain better traction on the movement. Kiyoko can’t move herself much, between her position flat on the bed and the lines of the rope binding her still where she lies; but Hitoka can watch the other’s reaction flicker to clarity across her features, can see the angle of Kiyoko’s throat curve back into a line of pleasure as Hitoka grinds her leg in closer between the other girl’s thighs. Kiyoko’s hot against her skin, wet and trembling as soon as Hitoka touches her, and it’s not enough on its own but for a minute Hitoka just savors the immediacy of it, lingers in the appreciation of watching Kiyoko shudder against the bed just from the press of Hitoka’s leg against her. Hitoka’s heart is pounding, her breathing catching faster on the heat rising in her chest; and then Kiyoko catches a breath, and opens her mouth, and says “Hitoka-chan” in a voice that writes a whole paragraph of pleading just with the shadows on her tone. “ _Please_.”

“Oh,” Hitoka says, her voice breaking in the back of her throat. “Yeah” and she’s moving, leaning back in against Kiyoko so she can reach for the head of the bed. Kiyoko is trembling under her, her whole body quivering with the rising heat of want in her veins; as Hitoka leans in against her Kiyoko turns her head towards the other girl’s shoulder, her lips catching to drag against Hitoka’s skin as Hitoka strains for the box set just at the head of the bed. The contact runs through her like electricity, like it’s humming all her blood alight in her veins, and it’s Hitoka who trembles with it then, shuddering herself into the first rush of reaction before she can pull the box free and lift it up to the bed to join them.

“One sec,” she says, feeling breathless and sounding more so as she pulls away from Kiyoko’s mouth and rocks back over her knees to slide the lid of the box open. There’s an array of options inside, simple vibrators and the more exciting toys Kiyoko sometimes brings home to offer as unexpected presents; sometimes Hitoka lingers over them, flushing with embarrassment and arousal in equal parts as opportunity creates a whole array of flickering fantasies in her head. But she knows what she wants, this time; it’s just a matter of finding the toy and sliding it free from the tangle of the rest. The design is straightforward, the silicon and battery pack all but interchangeable with any of the other options; but it’s the extra attachment that Hitoka wants this time, the vibrator that promises trembling heat to be shared out between them both.

“Here,” she says, and she’s sliding back as quickly as she speaks, easing her leg free from between Kiyoko’s to make space for the toy instead. Kiyoko spreads her legs wider immediately, the action instant agreement without requiring the clarification of words, and Hitoka can feel her heart skip over the heat of anticipation as she reaches to slide her touch up the inside of Kiyoko’s thigh. Kiyoko trembles under her touch, her leg shifting in reflexive response to the ticklish burden of Hitoka’s touch against her; but she’s breathing harder, too, Hitoka can hear the catch of the other girl’s inhales cling to the tension in her throat as Hitoka touches her. Kiyoko is wet under her hand, the soft folds of her body damp with heat against the gentle weight of Hitoka’s fingertips; Hitoka’s heart pounds harder in her chest as she draws her touch up, as she presses her fingers close against Kiyoko for a moment of lingering appreciation.

“Ready?” she says, the words only barely landing on the side of a question instead of a statement, and she doesn’t wait for a reply; Kiyoko is trembling with the force of her answer, her knees angling wider to strain against the restraint of the rope binding her ankles close under her hips. Hitoka looks at her for a moment, just to appreciate the pale line of tension running up the inside of Kiyoko’s thighs and the warm damp clinging to the dark curls between her legs; and then she braces a hand alongside the other girl’s hip, and steadies her grip on the base of the toy, and reaches out to slide it against Kiyoko’s body. Kiyoko tenses at the first cool touch of it, her thighs flexing as she arches up as if in pleading for more; and Hitoka gives it to her without hesitating, pressing in to slide the breadth of the toy inside the other girl. Kiyoko groans far in the back of her throat, heat and relief vying for control over her tongue, and Hitoka keeps watching her face, watching the dip of Kiyoko’s lashes as she turns her head against the sheets under her, as she pants through heat as Hitoka pushes farther into her. The movement is smooth, easy against the slick heat of Kiyoko’s body; Hitoka’s heart is pounding harder just at how simple the motion is, at how immediately Kiyoko is giving way to the force. She must be desperate, must have been hot from the moment she took her clothes off; and Kiyoko touches her tongue to her lips, and opens her mouth, and says “Turn it on” with the words trembling into more of a plea than a demand at her lips. Hitoka’s skin prickles to heat, electricity flaring along her spine to tense hot low in her stomach; and she surrenders to Kiyoko’s plea, catching her thumb against the button without looking at what she’s doing. The toy hums to life, buzzing gently against Hitoka’s grip on it, and Kiyoko shudders with the movement, the strain along her thighs giving way to trembling relief for a moment as she drops back down to the sheets under her. Hitoka stares at her for a breath, watching the shivers of sensation run through the curves of Kiyoko’s body to press close against the resistance of the ropes binding her in place; and then she looks down to the controls under her thumb, and shifts the setting of the toy. The vibrator thrums into motion, humming pressure in against Kiyoko’s clit to match the motion of the toy working inside her, and Kiyoko arches up off the bed, her back curving for a moment to make a smooth arc of her spine as she rocks up towards the friction against her. Her skin presses to the rope, her breasts shift against the restraints; and Hitoka’s entire body goes tense in echoing answer, tightening on heat that leaves her gasping as if she’s been shocked right out of coherency.

“Hitoka,” Kiyoko is gasping, “Hitoka-chan” but Hitoka doesn’t need the encouragement, she doesn’t think she could restrain herself much longer even if she tried. She’s moving as quickly as Kiyoko lets herself fall back to the sheets, bracing one knee close against the other girl’s hip and bringing the other up so she can straddle Kiyoko underneath her; Kiyoko is lifting her head from the sheets, blinking hard in a visible attempt to bring her vision back into focus on the other girl as Hitoka settles her weight atop Kiyoko’s legs. Hitoka shifts her grip on the toy, bracing her awkward hold into a more steady support as she adjusts her balance; and then she rocks forward, letting the weight of her body press the vibrator close between her hips and Kiyoko’s, and they both make a sound so near in tone Hitoka can’t tell her own response from Kiyoko’s.

“Oh,” Hitoka says, incoherence sweeping up to seize control of her throat and spill helpless heat past her lips. “ _Kiyoko_ ” and she’s moving, reflex taking over the clumsy self-consciousness that usually so grips her to grind her forward and down with an elegance she could never achieve by any deliberate means. Kiyoko’s head goes back with the pressure of Hitoka moving against her, her hips rock up in the tiny, involuntary motion that’s the most she can manage under the circumstances, and Hitoka keeps moving, instinct taking over to guide the shift of her hips. She finds a rhythm to her action after a moment, a slow grind of her body down against Kiyoko’s, and the vibrator is humming between them and sparking heat into Hitoka’s veins and Kiyoko is moaning helplessly with every move the other girl makes, her body trembling like Hitoka on top of her is the only thing holding her down. Her legs are flexing, trying to strain her up for more, but every time Hitoka presses closer Kiyoko shudders with it, her head tipping back like she’s trying to make an offering of the pale of her throat for Hitoka’s approval. The toy is still moving inside her -- Hitoka imagines she can almost feel the rhythmic motion, if she thinks about it -- but mostly it’s the vibrator that’s holding her attention, that’s winding the heat in her tighter and tighter with every breath she takes and every deliberate shift of her hips. There’s strain winding up her spine and settling into her shoulders, arousal knotting itself to the edge of anticipation low in her stomach; and then Hitoka shifts, her weight tipping forward for a moment to pin the vibrator tight between her body and Kiyoko’s, and Kiyoko arches underneath her, her entire body curving into impossible tension for a heartbeat before she groans a full-throated sound of raw heat and shudders herself into orgasm, quivering with waves of heat as she comes under Hitoka. Hitoka whimpers, her voice breaking into a high sound half-disbelief, half-want, and then she’s moving again, harder, grinding herself close to the sensation thrumming against her while Kiyoko quivers through aftershocks between her legs. Kiyoko’s mouth is open, her eyes are shut, her whole expression is warm with heat, slack with the force of the pleasure rippling through her, and Hitoka can feel herself coming undone, can feel all her restraint giving way as the last heartbeats of anticipation cave into certainty.

“ _Oh_ ,” she says, her voice slipping on itself to turn the simplicity of the vowels over into a moan. “ _Kiyoko_ ” and pleasure breaks over her like a wave, her orgasm trembling through the whole of her body as her attention fractures, as her focus narrows and tightens to just Kiyoko’s face, Kiyoko’s eyes, Kiyoko’s mouth. Hitoka’s mouth is open, her breathing is catching in her throat as she shudders through each pulsing flare of heat; and underneath her Kiyoko is gasping, Kiyoko is panting for air, Kiyoko is the most beautiful thing she has ever seen. It’s like Hitoka ceases to exist, like all there is in the world is the girl in front of her, the girl under her, like everything Kiyoko is is enough all on its own to turn Hitoka into a single sustained tremor of starbright-pleasure. Hitoka trembles with the force of it, her fingers tensing and her legs flexing; and then the first force eases, fading back into the more manageable heat of aftershocks, and Hitoka gasps an inhale and thinks to fumble with the controls still under her thumb. Kiyoko gasps relief when Hitoka gets the movement to still, some of the straining tension of pleasure in her body easing into exhausted comfort, and then Hitoka turns off the hum of the vibrator between them and for a moment they’re both silent, both breathing hard through the flush of afterglow.

“Oh,” Kiyoko finally says, breathing the word like it’s an entire sentence on its own. Combined with the expression flickering warm across her face, it is. “Hitoka-chan.”

“Yeah,” Hitoka says; and then, as her attention drops from Kiyoko’s face to the ropes pressing close against the other girl’s shoulders, “Oh my god, I should untie you, I’m so sorry!”

Kiyoko laughs. “It’s fine,” she soothes. Hitoka slides back to topple over the bed and fumble through easing the toy free of the other girl; she can feel her face burning with embarrassment, but Kiyoko doesn’t seem so much as fazed, even shifts her legs slightly to give Hitoka a better angle for the movement. “I can stay like this for a while.”

“It’ll bruise if I leave them too long,” Hitoka insists, setting the toy aside to deal with later so she can free Kiyoko from her restraints first. It’s harder to get the other girl back to upright than it was to lie her back over the bed; in the end Kiyoko shifts herself sideways, and Hitoka takes the hint to tip her over onto her stomach so she can reach the knots she tied off around the other girl’s ankles. Kiyoko’s legs are trembling as Hitoka works the knots free; the rope leaves lines of pink across pale skin as it comes free, the texture pressed to print against Kiyoko’s skin even after Hitoka has drawn the loops loose. It makes Hitoka flinch, even as the rope eases enough for Kiyoko to unfold her legs and let her feet fall to the bed, and she hurries through the rest of it, tugging at the knots to loosen them enough to slide free rather than undoing the whole tangle of rope she’s made against Kiyoko’s body. “Are you okay? Does anything hurt?”

“Nothing hurts,” Kiyoko soothes. Hitoka tugs the loops around the other girl’s wrists to slackness and Kiyoko slides a hand free, working her fingers in against her palm before she braces her hand at the sheets and moves to push herself upright. “I’m fine, Hitoka-chan.”

“Are you sure?” Hitoka lets the rope fall free of her grip as Kiyoko slides her other hand free and turns back to face her; she can see the prints of the rope marking the other girl’s skin, can see the outline of the knots lacing over Kiyoko’s body like an echo of the pattern Hitoka tied around her when they began. She reaches out to touch gently against the print over Kiyoko’s collarbone, wincing at the almost-bruise of the red under her touch. “It did leave marks.”

Kiyoko’s fingers close around her wrist, Kiyoko’s touch winds gentle around her skin. “Hitoka,” Kiyoko says, and Hitoka blinks to look at Kiyoko’s face, to meet the dark of the other’s eyes on her. Kiyoko’s gaze is gentle, her focus deliberate; there’s a flicker of tension at the corner of her mouth, the beginning of a smile a little bit amused and all affectionate. Hitoka can feel the heat of it spill through her like sunshine breaking through clouds to warm her skin.

“I’m fine,” Kiyoko says. She lets her hold on Hitoka’s wrist go and reaches up to press her hands to either side of Hitoka’s face like she’s holding her steady. “It was wonderful.” Her smile is going wider, curving soft over her lips; when her gaze slides down to Hitoka’s mouth it spills bright across the whole of her expression, breaking into a laugh that sparkles warmth straight through the whole of Hitoka’s body. “You’re wonderful, Hitoka-chan.”

“I’m--” Hitoka starts, ready to offer a denial to this, an insistence that Kiyoko’s the better one, Kiyoko’s too good for her, can’t Kiyoko see how true that is? But Kiyoko is leaning in before she can finish her protest, pressing the give of her smile to Hitoka’s lips, and Hitoka’s denial cuts off into a whimper of startled heat instead, her protest fades with the flutter of her lashes and the lift of her hand to steady herself at Kiyoko’s hip. Kiyoko hums against her mouth, the sound soft and warm and soothing, and Hitoka tips her head, and lets Kiyoko kiss her into agreement.

She thinks that together they might be even more beautiful than Kiyoko is alone.


End file.
